James’s gaze caught hers, holding her prisoner, suggesting things with nothing but a simple look.
Another shiver rippled through her. Her skin grew warmer, her heartbeat doubled.
Oh God, she had never been so turned on. So ready to make love.
Love.
Sienna’s stomach clenched. Her mouth grew dry. Love? Was she kidding? “Have sex” was what she meant. “Fuck.” “Rut like animals.” That was what she meant, not “make love.” There was nothing sweet or romantic about the sexual charge between them. What this was—this hunger burning through her now, the hunger smoldering in James Dyson’s stare—was purely physical. It had to be. Because she loathed him.
She did. But she couldn’t deny she wanted to have sex with him. She’d have a better chance of denying the sun rose in the east. He was the sexiest man she had ever met and before their identities had become known to each other, their connection had been undeniable. His very presence now made her crave his touch, but she would never make love to him. Making love required an emotional connection, not just a physical one.
I had an emotional connection with him once before. Six months ago.
No matter how much she’d tried, denying that didn’t work.
True, but now it was just lust. Had to be. Masochistic though it may be, the truth was obvious. She was in lust with James Dyson, and lust had nothing to do with love. Sex, however, had everything to do with lust.
She swallowed, shaking her head a little. Damn it, how could she be in lust with such an arrogant bastard? She licked her lips, her mouth like dust. “I think you have to…to…”
His smile disappeared as her words faltered. Hunger fell over his features. All signs of the relaxed man she’d first opened her door to—gone. In his place stood the arrogant alpha male she’d first met on the cathedral’s steps at Clinton’s funeral. The one who oozed power and control.
“I know I do, Sienna.” His nostrils flared. “And I will, I promise, but not before I do this.” He stepped toward her, his body brushing hers. Electric charges of pleasure ricocheted through her at the contact.
She would hate herself later. But she couldn’t stop herself, either. Not when he was so close. So there. So…
She leaned toward him, the firm pressure of his palm as it smoothed up her back stealing her breath. It cupped the base of her skull, his strong fingers threading through the hair at her nape.
“This is wrong,” she whispered.
“I don’t fucking care,” he whispered back.
She looked up into his eyes, knowing what she would find there. Triumph. She was prepared for it.
Her heart thumped faster. Unguarded, James’s eyes were soft. Uncertain. Confused.
A frown flicked over his face. He hesitated for the briefest second, his gaze roaming her face, as if searching for an answer there, before a growl sounded deep in his throat and his mouth claimed hers.
He knotted his fingers in her hair as his tongue delved into her mouth, savage at first. It was as demanding as their last kiss and it had the same affect on Sienna. Her body began to burn, the heat swelling and building, swelling and building.
Dragging his hands down her back, he found the curve of her bottom and cupped it firmly. And then, with a low groan, kneaded it with gentle pressure.
Gentle.
Sienna’s drugged mind marveled at the realization. There was nothing demanding about the way James held her now, touched her now. His hands were tender. He was caressing her. His lips tasted hers with sensitive hunger. His tongue didn’t invade her mouth, didn’t conquer it, but explored it with reverent worship. He traced the line of her lips, tickling the corners of her mouth with delicate strokes before finding and touching her tongue in a slow dance.
There was nothing lustful about James’s actions. And Sienna’s body reacted to the sweetness. Flooded with such heightened desire, she feared she would never recover. This was not a seduction, but an equal giving of pleasure. James worshipped her with such tender care Sienna could not stop herself responding in kind. Yet how was she to cope?
Because if it wasn’t savage, base lust, what was it?
Trouble. And a heartache in the making.
As if aware of her tormented thoughts, James lifted his head. “That…” The word escaped him on a ragged breath. Passion laced with uncertainty shone in his eyes.